


5 Times Weird Shit Happened at Christmas and the 1 Time They Just Accepted Their Weird Christmas Tradition

by transteverogers



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Body Swap AU, Christmas, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, lmao sorry this turned into crack half way through im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transteverogers/pseuds/transteverogers
Summary: Christmas just keeps getting weirder and weirder.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for a ss so i really hope the person i got likes this <3 
> 
> [find me on tumblr](http://transgendersteve.tumblr.com/)

_1\. 1937_

 

Steve had it all figured out. It was going to be perfect. He’d gotten Bucky the perfect gift, after having started saving up in July and going out to buy him a nice, new leather jacket from the semi-fancy store just around the corner a couple weeks ago. Bucky had been admiring it since they put it in the window and keeping it a secret from him was almost impossible for Steve but he’d managed.

 

And then the universe decided no Steve, fuck you.

 

And the goddamn roof collapsed the night before Christmas.

 

Currently, Steve’s stuck in the hospital with a mild case of hypothermia that would no doubt turn into one horrible illness or another that Bucky would have to scrape together some kind of money to pay for the medicine (no matter how many times a bed-ridden, sick Steve told Bucky that he shouldn’t have to pay for his medicine). Thinking back to the roof of their small apartment, part of Steve is surprised the roof lasted as long as it did but the rest of Steve was a boiling pot of pissed off because the damn roof couldn’t last for another 24 hours? Groaning softly, Steve thinks about the now-probably-ruined perfect gift.

 

“You ok Stevie?” Bucky says from his left, concern obvious in his voice.

 

Steve nods, hating how they’re stuck in this situation on Christmas. “Yeah,” He sighs, coughing once before falling into a larger coughing fit, small body violently shaking while he coughs. Bucky looks on nervously, knowing that most of the time, it was just best for Steve to get the coughs out of his system and that, really, there was nothing he could do for the smaller boy. After a moment or so, Steve calms down and stops coughing. “It just sucks we’re stuck in here on Christmas. I know how much you love the holidays, sorry.”

 

Bucky looks at him for a moment, as if trying to tell if Steve was being serious before responding. “Steve.” He huffs. “You didn’t force the roof to break or made yourself get sick.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Besides, spending the holidays with you is my favourite part.” He mumbles, cheeks flushing and he ducks his head, a very un-Bucky action. Usually, when Bucky gets flustered (which in itself is an odd occurrence), he simply plays it off and powers through whatever embarrassing thing that happened.

 

“Shucks Buck,” Steve says, grinning widely and lovingly taking the piss out of his best friend. “Didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

 

Laughing, Bucky gently shoves Steve, still wary of the other boy’s sickness but Steve only plays it off, shoving Bucky back in a rougher manner. Bucky grins, shoving Steve again and it starts off like that, the two boys pushing and shoving each other while loudly laughing their asses off. The shoving match only lasts for a few moments, as a nurse quickly comes in to see what all the racket is about. Frowning hard at the sight in front of her, she places her hands on her hips. “If you can’t be quiet, I’m going to have to force you to leave.” She says sternly. “Mr. Rogers needs his rest and I don’t think you’re helping him.”

 

Bucky mimes zipping his lips closed and, even though he’s not saying anything and simply just smiling at the nurse, Steve can tell right away the young lady is charmed by him. Steve rolls his eyes, and for the umpteenth time in his life, Steve ignores the feeling in the pit of his stomach. She waits a moment, still sizing Bucky up before nodding slightly with a hint of red on her cheeks before turning and leaving, deciding that the situation was under control. As soon as she’s gone though, Bucky turns to Steve with a grin that he knows all too well. “What’ve you done…?” Steve asks slowly, knowing that Bucky’s done something to have a look like that on his face.

 

“Why, Stevie, I’ve done nothing.” Bucky says, mocking offence for exactly three seconds before he’s grinning again. “Yet.” Steve looks to the ceiling, as if asking a higher being for help while Bucky digs out the bag he brought along from under his chair, opening it quickly. Inside of it are the slightly wet Christmas decorations they had managed to scrape together throughout the past few years and which were, as of last night, hanging in their now ruined apartment. “It’s not Christmas without a little tinsel.” Bucky practically jumps up, grabbing some of the decorations and hanging them around Steve’s bed or off the pictures adorning the walls. Steve watches with amused fascination as Bucky hums along to the Christmas song playing along on the radio that can all but barely be heard from the nurse’s station just outside of his room.

 

“Buck, it’s never a little tinsel with you.” Steve can’t help but chuckle as Bucky seems to pull a never ending pile of tinsel out of the bag. “Heck, did you bring anything other than tinsel with you?”

 

Bucky pauses for a moment, as if thinking before he answers. “Yeah, actually.” He says, going back to the bag and momentarily pausing his decorating to find the other things he brought with him. “I brought our presents.” He pulls one out that’s, miraculously, dry and hands it to Steve before taking the larger package for himself.

 

“How’d you find-” Steve begins to ask but Bucky cuts him off.

 

“I was cleaning the other day and I found it.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry, I restrained myself and didn’t open it.” He grins.

 

Steve laughs. “A true Christmas miracle.” Bucky has little self control when it comes to surprises or presents so, truly, it is a Christmas miracle that he knew his present was under the bed for multiple days and didn’t take a single peak.

 

“Ah, shuddup.” Bucky mumbles. “Open your gift.”

 

Steve concedes, slowly undoing the old newspaper wrapped around his gift. Underneath it though, are the nicest colouring pencil’s Steve has ever laid his eyes on, much less touched. He gasps softly, unable to help it as he gently touches the colours, careful not to break any of the pointed tips. “Buck, these must’ve cost-”

 

“Worth it.” Bucky says, 100% serious. “Every penny Stevie, you’re an amazing artist.”

 

“Buck…” Steve trails off, face going hot. He coughs, trying to get back a regular heartbeat that has nothing to do with his oncoming cold. “Open yours.” He finally says, wanting the attention off himself.

 

Bucky opens his own newspaper-covered present, and lets out a low whistle when he sees his present. He holds it up for a moment before tugging it on. “How do I look?” He asks Steve, running a hand through his hair.

 

Steve pauses for a moment, heart in his throat as he looks at Bucky. His hair is slightly askrew from running his hands through it, and there are bags under his eyes (no doubt from the lack of sleep the night before and worrying over Steve). Steve’s never seen anyone so beautiful. “You still have an ugly mug.” He says instead, corner of his mouth twitching up.

 

Bucky gives him a half-grin, half-smile combo before shoving Steve in an affectionate way and this time, Steve lets it slide, allowing Bucky to rest his hand on Steve shoulder for perhaps a moment longer than would be considered ‘normal’ between friends.

 

Outside, snow blows in the wind and falls gently onto the ground but inside the hospital, Steve and Bucky are warm for the first time since summer and enjoying each other’s company and their own special, odd Christmas.

 

____________________

 

_2\. 1944_

 

“What’re you doing out here?” Steve hears a familiar voice ask casually from behind him. He turns, looking over his shoulder more than anything as Bucky walks up next to Steve, so the two men are standing shoulder to shoulder. Even after two years, Steve couldn’t get used to the fact that he’s now taller than Bucky. It seems that just yesterday he was nothing more than a scrawny kid with a chip on his shoulder from Brooklyn - but at the same time, that ‘yesterday’ felt like a million years ago.

 

Steve shrugs, realising he’s probably waited longer than he should have to respond to Bucky. “Too hot, can’t get drunk. Take your pick.” He mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking back up at the night sky. Almost immediate, his brain starts supplying the names of constellations thanks to his now perfect memory.

 

Bucky nods, taking a sip of his own drink but he doesn’t move either. For a few, long moments, the two men stand there in silence as they take in the night sky. “Do you remember the Christmas after your ma died?” He asks all of a sudden, turning to look at Steve.

 

Steve looks away from the stars, looking back at Bucky and nodding. He has a faint but sad smile on his lips. “We spent the entire day in the cemetery, claiming that ma would’ve beat your ass if you left me alone on Christmas.”

 

Bucky smiles back, nodding. “And that’s still true.”

 

“I also remember the two of us spending New Year’s in the hospital because I caught pneumonia.” Steve laughs, a little more full this time.

 

Bucky laughs too. “When didn’t you?”

 

Steve nods, “true.” Bucky takes a sip from his drink again before offering it to Steve. “You know I can’t get drunk.” He says, confused.

 

“Doesn’t mean the drink doesn’t lose it’s taste.” Bucky grins, offer not wavering until Steve rolls his eyes, smiling and takes it. He takes a sip, coughing almost immediately as Bucky laughs loudly.

 

“Jesus Christ Buck, what the hell was in that?” Steve asks, still coughing.

 

Bucky shrugs, taking a swing for himself and Steve’s first thought is ‘that’s an indirect kiss’ before he pushes that to the back of his mind. “No idea, Dum Dum made it.”

 

“Ah.” Steve says, the concoction suddenly making sense. The two fall into silence once more, but it’s softer this time - almost warmer. Their shoulders brush and move together with every breath they take and the two seem to just enjoy the odd moment of peace in the middle of war. “Do you ever miss it?”

 

“Miss what?” Bucky asks, having a feeling what Steve might be asking about though.

 

Steve shrugs. “Brooklyn, me before the surgery, just… everything before the war.”

 

“Well I mean now I don’t have to worry about you dying from some sickness, just from Hydra.” He laughs, trying to make light of the war. “As for Brooklyn though… no, not really.” He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating what he’s going to say next. “I mean- you were always what I missed most about Brooklyn and now you’re here so.” He cuts himself off abruptly, trying to play it cool and taking a large swing of his drink, probably finishing it off.

 

Steve hums and pretends to be completely unaffected but his heart is hammering so loud he thinks that maybe even Bucky or the men inside can hear it. He wants nothing more than to take Bucky’s hand and just hold it tight, reminding not only Bucky but also himself that they’re both here and, for the moment, safe. Steve doesn’t know what it is exactly that drives him to do it, whether it be the cold air or the atmosphere between the two men but he reaches slightly with his hand, gently taking Bucky’s into his own.

 

Next to him, Bucky smiles slight and firmly grips Steve’s hand back and the two return to admiring the stars, everything between them simple yet inexplicably complicated. Steve’s hand is oddly soft and for a moment, Bucky’s confused but then he remembers that the serum doesn’t leave any scars on Steve’s body and, he guesses, calluses count as scars. Bucky knows his own hand is riddled with them, from both before the war and from during it. Secretly, Bucky thinks it fits them. Steve, always the righteous and innocent golden boy while Bucky was willing to do what ever it took, dirty or not, to protect that innocence as much as he could.

 

Before either of them can say another word though, the door to the bar behind them is opening loudly and they quickly drop hands, not wanting to raise any unwarranted questions. They turn around at the same time to face the interrupter - Dum Dum.

 

He’s got a small smirk on his face and his cheeks are flushed a pleasant red (sure signs he’s well on his way to drunk, if not already there). “The brass just ruined Christmas.” He announces, door half open with his body hanging out of it.

 

Steve raises an eyebrow with a small smile on his face as he waits for Dum Dum to continue. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He adds, a bit cheekily.

 

“They’ve got a lead on Zola, he’s supposed to be taking a train through the Alps in just over a week from now, we’ve gotta leave in the morning.” He explains. “Just thought I’d warn you boys.”

 

“Thanks for the warning Dum Dum.” Bucky nods before turning back to Steve. “What’d you say cap? A round before we all hit the hay?”

 

Steve laughs and claps Bucky on the shoulder as he shakes his head, the three men heading back in. The bar is loud and warm, a sudden contrast to the cold and quiet Steve and Bucky had been enjoying but neither can help but smile as they sit down at their table, the remains of the pseudo Christmas still lying around as Steve calls the bartender for another round, all of the men unknowing of the devastation soon to be upon them.

 

For now, they simple revelled in the moment and enjoyed one another’s company, none the wiser if Steve and Bucky’s flushes from the cold lasted a little longer than perhaps they usually would.

 

____________________

 

_3\. 1973_

 

It is cold. Warmer than The Asset is used to, but still. It is cold.

 

There’s snow falling and The Asset can hear children laughing as they skate around the ice rink, unknowing that death walks among them. The Asset itself pays no mind to the children. They are not its target. The Asset continues on from the ice rink, heading further into the bustling city as it follows its target. It will not make contact until the target has arrived home so the Asset follows at an acceptable distance, never losing sight. The target is talking loudly on the phone, but the city itself is too loud of the Asset to eavesdrop without paying significant attention. The Asset was told to only kill, not gather intent. The Asset does not eavesdrop.

 

The Asset follows the target until it hears a voice that forces it to stop. The Asset has never heard that voice before and yet…

 

“Are you ready to follow the all-new Captain America Adventures?” it is not the voice but someone else. The Asset turns to face the device - the TV. It has switched to an older film, taken decades earlier of a blond man. He is tall and wide and strong. The Asset does not-

 

The Asset does not-

 

The Asset does…?

 

Suddenly there is an image. Not on the TV but in The Asset’s mind. The Asset did not know it did this yet it watches this image. There is first a warm room with a tree, lit up like the one near the ice rink. There is only three presents under it, one for each person in the image yet that does not matter. The people are- The Asset does not know what the people are. It has never… felt before.

 

Quickly as the image came, another one replaces it. A hospital this time, with the boy from the first image and from the TV in the hospital bed yet - the boy is small. It is not possible but The Asset knows, it knows like it knows the target is gone (not lost, the target is too easy to find to be lost). The Asset does not know what feelings are yet it feels like the weight of the world is crushing its chest as it looks at the big-small man in the hospital bed.

 

Another image, now the small-big man is big again and he is holding The Asset’s hand. The Asset feels… warm.

 

Thousands upon thousands of miles away, Steve slumbers in the freezing ice.

 

____________________

 

_4\. 2016_

 

“I’m back.” Sam announces as he walks into the small, rundown apartment that he, Steve and Barnes were sharing for this point in time. They were somewhere in southern Europe, so there was no snow even though it was the 24th of December. Absently, Sam misses D.C. and all of its Christmas festivities but knows that there’s no way he can go back and see it. At least, not right now or what looked to be anytime soon. For the time being, the three men were fugitives.

 

Barnes doesn’t make a sound from his spot in the corner, mostly curled up around his precious notebook and occasionally scribbling something down. Steve looks up from his sketchbook and gives Sam a thankful smile as he places grocery bags on the rickety table. “Thanks man.” Steve says. He closes his book, putting the elastic strip over the top and laying it, and the pencil, down on the table. He moves to help Sam start taking things out of the bags and moving them into the rundown fridge and kitchen cabinets. “Thanks for going out.” He mutters to Sam, fully knowing that Bucky can hear them speaking but it still feels right to talk quietly. “I’d get noticed to easily and Buck… he isn’t having a good day.”

 

Sam nods, glancing over to Bucky’s corner for a moment and he catches the other man’s eye. Bucky blinks blankly for a couple seconds, not fully realising what’s happening around him before he looks away, turning back to his notebook. Sam turns back to Steve and shrugs. “I gotta eat too.” He says in explanation.

 

Steve nods. “I could make dinner-” He tries to offer but Sam snorts.

 

“I’m not having any of your 1940s, white boy cooking.” He states firmly, gently shooing Steve out of the kitchen area before trying to get the stove to turn on. It takes a couple tries, but he manages and he starts to make a small dinner for the three men. Mindlessly, he listens as Steve sits across from Bucky and talks in a low, but conversational voice.

 

“Sam’s kicked me out of the kitchen again.” Steve says - or more accurately, whines to Bucky. Bucky himself lets out a small snort, surprising both Sam and Steve. “Of course you’d take his side.” Steve plays along, knowing that sometimes all Bucky needs is to just listen to something else, anything else to get out of his own head. “Not like you were any better of a cook.”

 

Bucky shrugs, glancing back down at his notebook. Mentioning the past was more miss than hit, but Steve didn’t give up. Sometimes, Sam couldn’t believe the man. To go through everything Steve went through, to come to a different time - an entirely different world - to find your best friend is miraculously alive but brainwashed? And then to fight almost everyone just to simply help said friend? Sam didn’t know if he would ever have that strength.

 

(Then again if it was Riley - but no, best not to go there)

 

Steve pauses for a moment, thinking about what he’s going to say next. “You wanna see what I was drawing?” He finally asks and, Sam can’t see, but he guesses Bucky nods because next thing Sam hears is Steve getting up and going over to where his book is before going back to Bucky. He takes his seat on the floor this time, a bit closer to Bucky and Sam hears him opening the sketchbook and flipping through it before showing it to Bucky.

 

It’s silent for a couple seconds and Sam spares a look over his shoulder. Bucky seems to be frozen, staring at the drawing in front of him while Steve looks on, obviously worried. The apartment falls into a tense silence for what feels like eternity before Bucky silently hands Steve back the sketchbook. Bucky takes a moment to shift slightly before putting his head down on the floor, his eyes half closed and his breathing slowed but regulated. Steve quietly stands up, heading away from Bucky because he knows that talking to Bucky like this is going to do no one anything. He puts the sketchbook on the table, sitting open, before heading into the tiny washroom and turning on the skin. Sam can’t help it - he looks over at the notebook, taking in the drawing.

 

It’s a Christmas scene, obviously. It’s of Steve and Bucky, outside what looks like an old bar and both men are in their old uniforms as they look up at the sky above them, hands clasped between them and snow falling gently to the ground. Sam wonders, not for the first time, if maybe Steve and Bucky had been something other than just friends before everything happened. The care and detail Steve obviously put into the drawing seems to hint at an extremely deep caring feeling between the two. Sam shakes his head, deciding that whatever their relationship was before is none of his business. If Steve wanted to tell Sam, he would. It wasn’t any of Sam’s business to bring up things that may or may not have happened between the two men.

 

He turns back to the food, turning the oven on to a warm setting, knowing that neither Bucky nor Steve will be eating any time soon. He takes his own bowl and fills it before taking a seat at the table when -

 

“Don’t spill on his drawing.” Bucky says, in the quietest voice that for a moment, Sam thought he imagined it.

 

A couple seconds of shock play out before Sam can answer, and even then he just nods, moving the sketchbook away slightly so Bucky knows that there’s a less chance of spillage happening. “Do you, uh, want it?” He asks after a moment, referring to the sketchbook.

 

Bucky doesn’t answer, going back to his half asleep state but Sam’s less worried about the other vet now that he’s talked. It seems, that for now at least, Bucky’s partial out of whatever slump the drawing caused. A couple moments later, the bathroom door opens and Steve comes out. His eyes look slightly red but no one mentions it as he goes to the kitchen, filling his own bowl. He sits back at the table, jaw clenching when he sees the drawing. He takes the book and firmly, if not violently, closes it. Steve starts eating, obviously stewing in his own misery as he consumes the meal in front of him. He’s on his third bowl when Bucky slowly rises from his corner, and silently moves into the kitchen to take his own bowl.

 

Bucky doesn’t sit at the table, instead heading back to his corner but he’s sitting up now. He quietly slurps at his own dinner, letting the hot meal warm his cold and sore bones. “That was… before, right?” He asks suddenly and just as softly as before. “I mean just before right?”

 

Steve pauses, coughing to clear his throat before answering. “Yeah.” He says, voice quiet as well. Sam silently watches the exchange in front of him, not wanting to interrupt or ruin it. “We were at some old tavern and I was outside, you had -” He voice catches and he coughs again. “You’d come out to join me. We just talked, about Brooklyn and before the war mainly… then Dum Dum came out-”

 

“And he said the brass had ruined Christmas.” Bucky says quietly.

 

Sam looks over at Steve who looks like he might cry at any moment. “Yeah.” His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in years.

 

Bucky nods. “We had weird Christmases.” He decides after a moment. “You spent one in the hospital back when you were small because… because…” He pauses, trying to think.

 

“The roof fell in.” Steve says, after Bucky struggles and fails to remember the reason.

 

Bucky nods. “Weird Christmases.” He repeats, and looks around as if taking in their surroundings and truly seeing them for the first time.

 

____________________

 

_5\. 2018_

 

“We have the god damn fucking weirdest Christmases!” Bucky all but laughs over the intercoms as he uses his metal arm to punch a hole in an actual live moving snowman’s head.

 

Over the past two years, things had dramatically changed. Bucky, Steve and Sam were able to get Bucky to Wakanda and get help that, honestly, all three of the men needed after the numerous traumatic experiences they’ve all been through. As of now though, they (along with the other Avengers who hadn’t signed the accords but still wanted to help) were working out of Wakanda and going where the other, signed Avengers couldn’t go. Right now, Bucky and Steve were in England fighting live snowmen.

 

“I think this one takes the fucking cake.” Steve grunts through the head set, using his shield to smash through three snowmen at once. “We gotta find a better way to fight them.” He huffs, one of the snowmen he just smashed already reforming and getting up.

 

“There has to be somewhere that’s controlling them.” Bucky huffs, punching into the middle of a snowman and- surprisingly - taking hold of something. Surprised, Bucky holds onto it and rips it out of the snowman. Automatically, the snowman stops functioning and in his hand is - “Holy shit there’s little green men inside of them!” In Bucky’s hand, there is indeed, a little green man. No more than two feet long and abnormally skinny and slimy, the green alien struggled in Bucky’s hand, odd sounds spewing out of it’s mouth. “Hey Stevie, how come aliens don’t speak English like in all the movies?” He asks conversationally, using his free hand to punch other snowmen. “I mean it would make our job a lot easier.”

 

Steve sighs over the intercom, but Bucky knows he’s amused. “Just focus on the aliens.” He says.

 

Bucky huffs and looks at the now shrivelled and dead green alien in his hand. He most definitely does not scream, thank you very much, he does a manly shout and drops it. He grabs another one out of a different snowman and it seems to shrivel up and die faster. “Hey Stevie, if you take them out of the snow they die.”

 

“Yeah, I realised that when you took one out. I did too, I thought you noticed.” Steve says, voice a lot calmer now that they have an affective way to fight the aliens.

 

Bucky shrugs, continuing on until he’s left with nothing but a pile of snow and a shit ton of shrivelled up green raisins. “You done yet?” He asks Steve, looking around as if he could find the other man that way. They had split up right at the beginning, trying to divide and conquer.

 

“Just - a - minute.” Steve grunts, before breathing heavily in Bucky’s ear. “Ok.” He says a moment later. “Done now, and ready to go home and take a shower. Where are you?”

 

“Just by where we were dropped off.” Bucky says, moving so he can leaned against a wall, waiting for Steve to come to him. He pulls out his phone before sending a message to their extract team, along with his location. “Team’s on the way, should be a couple minutes.”

 

Steve rounds the corner and heads over to Bucky, careful not to step on any of the dead aliens. “You ok?” He asks, eyes quickly going over Bucky as if to check, even before the other man can answer.

 

Bucky nods. “Yeah fine, you?” He asks, as if he didn’t do a scan of Steve’s body as soon as he was in sight.

 

“Good.” Steve says, leaning against the wall next to Bucky. Sure, they were super soldiers and could last a lot longer than anyone else but that didn’t mean they didn’t get tired at all. The two waited in silence, catching their breath while they waited for their extract. They didn’t have to wait long, and the ride back was quiet, the two falling asleep almost immediately into the flight. When they arrived back in Wakanda a few hours later, they walked quietly to the rooms they had next to each other, turning into their own. Steve went straight into his showing, intent on cleaning himself from the day’s hard work. His shower feels like it must’ve been days long itself, yet it never ran out of hot water. When Steve finally does come out, he simply wraps a towel around himself before heading back into his room. A mistake, apparently.

 

“Jeez Stevie, could’a put some clothes on for me.” Bucky laughs, lounging on Steve’s bed. Steve’s entire body flushes a bright red and he grips the front of his towel tighter.

 

“Jesus Bucky!” Steve all but shouts, taking a step back as if he intended on going back into the bathroom. Not that he had any clothes in there or anything, just so he wouldn’t be naked in the same room as Bucky. Recently, Steve had realised his feelings for his friend weren’t solely friendship. He knows, realistically, they started decades ago - before he was even Captain America, but he was so far in denial back then he never allowed himself to accept that he might be queer, let alone in love with Bucky. “What if I hadn’t been wearing a towel!?”

 

Bucky simply shrugs, laying back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling while Steve heads over to his dresser, awkwardly pulling boxers on under his towel. He lets it drop after they’re on before grabbing a pair of PJ bottoms to pull on top. He’s changing quickly and not daring to spare a look at Bucky so he misses the fact that Bucky’s watching him, looking at how his muscles and body in general move. “I got your present.”

 

“I thought we said we weren’t doing presents this year.” Steve says, turning around to face Bucky as he pulls on a sweater. It’s one of Bucky’s that he stole when Bucky kept taking his clothing. Steve realises that Bucky’s own loose sweatpants are actual a pair of Steve’s and, oddly, that makes his insides preen a little. Steve ignores the feeling as he heads over to the bed, planning on lying with Bucky on it. He loved the simple moments like that, where the two of them got to simply be around one-another, without being on the run or fighting some villain or other.

 

“Yeah but I knew you were gonna get me something anyways.” Bucky says, moving so they’re facing each other and he’s got a small smirk on his face as he pulls out a square package for Steve.

 

Steve rolls his eyes, smiling as he takes the gift and opens it. It’s a nice, a really really nice new sketch book, ready to be filled to the brim like all of his other ones. Steve gasps slightly, flipping through the pages and just simply touching the beautiful paper. “Oh Buck, thank you.” He says quietly.

 

Bucky shrugs, and looks away from Steve but he can still see the flush that’s crept down the other boy’s throat. “So uh, what’d you get me?” Bucky says, trying to change the topic.

 

“It’s kind of a gift to both of us?” Steve asks, rather than says. “I mean- you always liked my drawings so much and I always loved drawing you so I thought maybe we- you could just lay here while I drew you?”

 

Bucky smiles and shifts again, getting comfortable against the bed and letting his eyes flutter shut. “If I fall asleep Stevie, that one’s on you.” He mumbles.

 

Steve laughs softly, reaching over to his bedside table to grab his pencils before shifting to sit up on the bed, focusing on Bucky. They spend the rest of their night like that, Bucky laying quietly on Steve’s bed while Steve sketches him, christening his new sketchbook with the drawing. Steve’s just putting the final touches on the drawing when he notices that Bucky’s fallen asleep, snoring very softly. Steve smiles and puts the sketchbook and pencil back on his bedside table before laying down next to Bucky. Almost immediately, Bucky shifts in his sleep to pull Steve closer and Steve sighs, falling in love just a little bit more.

 

The next morning, Bucky wakes before Steve does. The first thing he does, is look at the drawing Steve completed the night before. Never before had Bucky seen himself looking so vulnerable, so gentle and loved than in that drawing. His own heartbeat picked up speed as he gently touched at the drawing, eyes barely believing it’s real. His eyesight shifts over to Steve’s still-sleeping form before going back to the drawing, wondering if this was how Steve truly saw him.

 

As if knowing he’s being watched, Steve groans and opens his eyes before shutting them again. “Early, too early.” He mumbles, pawing at Bucky to try and pull the other man back for some morning cuddles. Bucky goes with him, even if he could resist if he wanted (he doesn’t want), still holding the sketchbook in his hands. They lay like that for a few moments until Steve opens his eyes again, unable to fall back asleep. It’s then when he notices the drawing in Bucky’s hand. “It’s not very good, sorry.” He says, scrunching his nose up and Bucky’s jaw drops.

 

“Steve.” He says firmly, looking away from the drawing and to the other man. “This is amazing. I mean, I’ve been sayin’ it for decades but your art should be in a museum.”

 

Steve flushes, and shrugs. “I mean - there’s some lightening issues and I don’t know if I really captured you but thanks Buck.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Drama queen, fishing for compliments.” He jokingly huffs out and closes the sketchbook to put it off to the side, not wanting to ruin the beautiful drawing. He moves back to Steve’s side, content to lay together for the morning.

 

“Oh yes, that’s me.” Steve says dryly, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, careful when he tugs at a knot.

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You are a drama queen.” He mumbles, moving so he can look at Steve’s face. All of a sudden (or maybe it’s a cumulative thing, from decades and decades) Bucky’s gripped with an urge to kiss the other man.

 

“What?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow something. “I got something on my face?”

 

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe.” He mumbles before moving forward and pressing his lips to Steve’s.

 

Steve gasps slightly, tightening his arms around Bucky and deepening the kiss almost immediately, not wanting to lose his chance at whatever this might be. Bucky hums softly in to Steve’s mouth, shifting slightly so he can reach up more without straining his neck too much.

 

If the spend the rest of boxing day like that, cooped up in bed while kissing and talking, no one else really needs to know.

 

____________________

 

_+1 2019_

 

“Man I thought nothing would top last year.” Bucky says, looking down at his body.

 

Or, more accurately, Steve’s body.

 

They were fighting some villain or other (on Christmas again, fuck these assholes for not talking a day off) when there was a large flash of white before darkness. They were back in Wakanda - stuck in each other’s bodies, but fine otherwise. “Hey Stevie?” Bucky grins, voice mischievous. “If I give you a handjob does it count as masturbation?”

 

Steve has a pained look on his face. “Bucky.” He says, trying to use his Captain America Dad Voice (trademark pending).

 

Bucky scrunches up his face. “Your Captain America voice sounds weird coming from me.” He pauses. “But no, seriously, does that count as sex or what? I mean it’s technically my body.”

 

Steve’s pained look only grows and he looks towards the roof, as if asking god (or Thor) for guidance.

 

(Bucky decides later that night that getting off by himself has never felt that good so it must be sex).

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr](http://transgendersteve.tumblr.com/)


End file.
